


Five Times Crowley Was Sexually Oblivious, And One Time He Finally Learned

by CuddlyHawk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Is Not A Virgin, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Dom/sub Undertones, First Kiss, Gentle Dom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gentle Kissing, M/M, Misunderstandings, Noah's Ark, Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Platonic Relationships, Teacher Aziraphale (Good Omens), The Talk, Virgin Crowley (Good Omens), mention of pedophilia, philosopher Crowley, so many misunderstandings, the birds and the bees, watched adam and eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22010902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuddlyHawk/pseuds/CuddlyHawk
Summary: As a demon stationed on Earth, Crowley is expected to know how humans work, from conception until death. But if no one bothers to tell him, then how's he supposed to know? This is the story of five times he completely missed that something sexual was happening, and one time he finally had the process explained to him.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 450





	1. Five Times Crowley Was Sexually Oblivious

**Author's Note:**

> My first time ever having a beta!! HUUUUGE thanks to [@snarky_fangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_fangirl/pseuds/snarky_fangirl) for helping me with this story! If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have finished it, so make sure to give her all the love!
> 
> ~ ~ ~
> 
> Anyway, I'm going to make an effort (pun 100% intended) not to stress too much about the timeline like I have in my other Good Omens stories, so just disregard the real timeline of the story and enjoy this—somewhat AU—adventure!

I. The Garden – Adam and Eve

Crawly flicked his tongue out, sampling the fresh air. The hundreds of flowering trees made even the air taste like fruit, and he took a deep breath, relishing the warmth of the sunlight on his scales and the crisp morning air in his lungs. The taste of rain still lingered from the first rainfall, and Crawly couldn't help but glance up at the angel who had shielded him from the droplets. He still hadn't really gotten his name. He had just been calling him 'the angel' in his head for the past few days. Perhaps now was a good time to properly introduce himself.

He transformed back into his human shape and took a couple shaky steps—walking was much harder than he remembered, especially after being cursed with the body of a serpent—toward the angel. All around them, the Garden was alive. Birds chirped and sang, butterflies gave a beautiful splash of bright color, the gentle rush of the Eden river was soothing to the ears.

The angel was standing on a bluff, posture stiff and proper as he looked down into the Garden. Crawly made his way up and settled at the angel's side. The angel didn't even really look at him. Crawly found that odd, but soon enough his curiosity for the angel's name overruled and he found himself say, "Relaxing morning, no?"

Finally, fair blue eyes flicked to look at Crawly before fixing back down into the garden. "Oh yes, quite lovely indeed." Crawly made a face at the wording but said nothing.

"Hey angel, I er… I never got your name."

"Oh, really? Apologies!" He turned to fully face Crawly and gave him the sweetest smile, straightening his back respectfully. "They call me Aziraphale, Principality. I'm in charge of the Eastern Gate."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, of course. I wouldn't lie; I'm an angel!"

"Y– W... I meant," Crawly blessed his clumsy tongue. "They left you in charge, all on your own?"

"I don't see why not. I'm rather well-versed in the making of Eden, and the intricate complexit–"

A low moan interrupted him and both of them peered down into the garden. Adam and Eve were wrapped completely around each other. Adam grabbed a handful of Eve's hair and she made a soft whine. Crawly frowned.

"Is she alright?" He was ready to attempt to make his human legs run, if needed. "Is he hurting her?"

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. Long enough for Crawly to eventually look at him for a response. The angel's face was turning pink. "She's perfectly alright."

"I've never heard anything make that sound. Are you sure?"

"Completely. She's having...a good time."

Crawly's nose wrinkled. "A good time?" Eve moaned again, low and breathy, this time followed by Adam's (even lower) moan.

Aziraphale looked away, ears a deep pink. "It's important," he said eventually. "Humans need to do it to survive."

Crawly wanted to ask more, but Aziraphale was clearly uncomfortable. Like when he asked him about the flaming sword. Got quite flustered rather easily, didn't he? Crawly shook his head fondly, and stood side by side, watching the two humans squirm in unison.

* * *

II. The Ark – 2 of each animal

"Eh, you've still got one of 'em," Crawly called, waving a dismissive hand toward the runaway unicorn. "Two of everything's a bit excessive anyway," he mumbled to himself, watching as the animals all boarded the boat while many humans stood by and scoffed.

Aziraphale shifted next to him. "Well, the Almighty didn't want to erase all life from this area. Just the pieces that are toxic." He gave a short nod to the people around them who were calling Noah and his family rather vulgar names.

Crawly nodded and motioned to the Ark. "Well, yeah. If They wanted to kill everything, then They wouldn't warn Noah at all. So They told Noah and it makes sense to keep his family and keep one of every animal. I mean, do you know how bad the boat will smell after only a couple days? Loading this many on board..." Crawly snorted. "Bet it wouldn't have taken as long to build either, if he halved the amount of creatures boarding."

Aziraphale gave him a strange look. "They need two of each. I'm sure you know why," Aziraphale's voice lilted into a soft, disbelieving laugh, but his eyes were fixed on Crawly, searching for deceit. Crawly met his gaze solidly.

"To be a hindrance, that's why, right? That's God's Plan, right? Be a nuisance? Make the only survivors _wish_ they had drowned?"

Aziraphale shook his head, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips despite Crawly's bitter words. "The Almighty wants to make sure the animals continue to live here…" his words were slow, almost like he were trying to explain something without _actually_ explaining it.

"That's why he should have a sample of each species," Crawly was starting to get frustrated with the angel's mind games.

"Noah and his sons brought their wives..." Aziraphale continued in the same expectant tone, clearly enjoying Crawly's confusion.

"O'course, so they won't be lonely. What are you getting at, Aziraphale?"

Aziraphale bit his lip, trying—and failing—to keep a smile off his face. "Nothing, Crawly. Nothing at all."

Something resembling understanding dawned on Crawly's face and Aziraphale turned pink. "Got it," Crawly said, all serious. "The animals need to be married." His face cracked into a huge grin. "You _do_ know how silly that sounds, right?" Aziraphale blinked owlishly, turning even pinker.

"I er... I-In a way, yes." Aziraphale fidgeted with his hands, looking down. "But if that helps you understand, then _yes_ , the animals need to be married to have offspring."

Crawly gave him a flat look. "Oh yes, of course, let's just pop on over to the marriage of the _peacocks_ after the floods all recede," he said, voice laced with snark. He turned away, shaking his head. "And I thought _I_ was the one doing all the deceiving here." Aziraphale didn't reply.

* * *

III. The Elderly – Abraham and Sarah

"You are to make sure Abraham and Szzzzarah do _not_ conczzzeive a child."

Crawly nodded, hoping his confusion didn't show on his face. "Right, yes. No children for them."

Beelzebub scowled, their lip curling in contempt. "Put doubt in their mindszz. I have intel that some white-wings will try to tell her she will have a child. Sow that doubt. Make them argue with the angels. They're too old, after all. Ninety yearszzz is too old. Make sure they know it."

"Too old, yup."

"Can you handle it, Crawly?"

"O'course I can, Lord Beelzebub. You can count on me, I know what I'm doing."

He had no idea what he was doing. Once he was topside, Crawly took a moment to bury his face in his hands. He had no clue how to do this, but he wasn't about to argue with the lord of Hell. Last time he mouthed off, he got fifty lashes and his back ached just from the memory. No, he would figure it out.

He donned a black shawl that he draped over his hair and dressed in a matching black tunic. He used a small demonic miracle to appear female to any passersby, and went on his way to Sarah and Abraham's home.

How was he supposed to do this?

When he got to where they were living, he decided subtle would be best. He didn't know what else to do. He made himself appear much older, and hobbled to the doorway. "Hello?" He called, allowing his voice to warble like an old woman's.

Abraham approached, appearing almost the same age Crawly was impersonating. "Hello," Abraham said kindly. "Whatever is the matter?"

Crawly thought quick. "I am desperately hungry. After all, my children are all grown. I have no one to care for me, and I am far too old to do anything on my own." Yes, that sounded right. Sounded normal.

Abraham blinked, taking in his hunched figure. "Of course. Let me give you some bread." He disappeared inside the house and came back a moment later with the promised bread, and an elderly woman Crawly assumed to be Sarah was at his side.

"What are you doing out and about?" She asked Crawly as Abraham gave him the bread.

"Oh you know," Crawly shifted as he took the bread and looked at it with interest. "Hoping a kind soul like you would help an old, old woman like me. After all, us old folk need to stick together. No more children to help take care of us."

Sarah gave him a sad look and Abraham nodded wistfully. "Ah, yes. That's very true." Was it? Crawly had no idea, but they were believing it, so he must have been doing something right.

He nodded, more encouraged now that he felt like he was doing it right. "And this bread feels so fresh, you must have baked it yourself, no?" He gave it a small squeeze and the crust made a nice _crunch_.

"Of course," Sarah smiled and took a breath to continue, but Crawly went on instead,

"Making fresh bread, wow. At your age that must be so incredibly hard." Abraham and Sarah glanced at one another, but Crawly went on, ignoring their little looks, "Usually baking is a younger person's job, right? Because younger adults are more coordinated and won't burn themselves like old people will. Lots of fire, sharp knives, other dangerous things. Old people can be so clumsy!"

Abraham stepped forward just a bit, putting himself between Crawly and Sarah. "Ah yes, but alas we must continue our day. It was very kind of you to vis–"

"Why _don't_ you have children?" Crawly interrupted, brow furrowing as he peered around them into the empty house. "You're married, after all. That means you had some before. What happened to them?"

There was a tense silence, where Sarah gave Abraham a worried, more pleading look. "Abraham, remember we were...in the middle of something?"

He frowned, opened his mouth, then suddenly understanding flashed over his face and he nodded. "Ah yes, that is right. Go on ahead back inside, my Sarah. I shall be inside soon."

She sighed with relief and leaned up to give Abraham a chaste kiss. And with that, she quickly left.

Crawly watched her go, processing the secret conversation the couple seemed to have had. "Sensitive topic?" He asked with a knowing frown. "Yeah, lots of people get defensive when the topic of children comes up." Crawly reached out and patted Abraham's arm, who stiffened under Crawly's cold touch. "It's alright, sometimes marriages aren't the best, right? Children only pop up when the marriage is right. You'll find the right one someday." He glanced away with a quiet snicker. "If you don't, y'know, _die_ from old age first."

Crawly felt a swell of anger from Abraham. "Now see here, madam," he said icily, "there is no need to be so crass. My wife and I have been preoccupied with plenty of other things in our lives, like baking the bread you so easily took from us, and yet you dare threaten me with death? Who do you think you are?" He took a dangerous step closer and Crawly took one back, stunned.

He blinked as he suddenly realized he had said the complete wrong thing. "Ah well, yes, er...I am grateful for the bread." He took a few more steps back, trying to escape, and struggling to keep up his old woman's hobble in his rush to get away before he could be struck by the angry man. "Have a good life, sir." Even as he retreated from the house, Crawly felt the waves of Abraham's anger crashing over him, but thankfully the human remained at the house and didn't try to follow him. "Well that could have gone better," he mumbled.

Walking more briskly and less like an elderly person the farther away he got, Crawly's thoughts changed from avoiding being hit, to really thinking about the situation, about his assignment. Prevent them from having kids? Put doubt of their age in their minds? First of all, why didn't they already have kids? They were married, after all, and they seemed happy. It made no sense. Had all their children died? That would explain Sarah's reaction when he brought it up. And why would their age even really matter? He had seen people of all ages have kids, right? Then again, he never exactly followed around a human or asked their age. They all looked the same to him, after this many years. It was hard to keep track of all of them.

Although, it had seemed to work? At least to some degree, he had sowed doubt in their minds. Crawly shrugged weakly. Then again, he probably didn't, if Abraham's anger toward him was any indicator. If he _did_ fail, he would hear about it from Beelzebub soon enough.

As he reached the edge of town and slowed to his lazy, sauntering stroll, he saw three blindingly white figures striding with purpose past him in the direction of Abraham and Sarah's house, and he had to take a second look when he sensed something otherworldly.

They were angels!

And Crawly could have sworn that one on the right was Azi–

 _No, stop that,_ he reprimanded himself, pulling his scarf tighter over his head and pointedly continuing on his way. _You're a demon, you can't go around getting eager whenever you see an angel._

And yet, Crawly couldn't help but glance back, trying to see if it really was The Angel.

But all three were too far away before Crawly could take a good look.

* * *

IV. The Temple – Plato and his Students

Crowley wasn't completely sure how he managed to become a philosopher, but nevertheless, here he was. He had changed his name shortly after meeting some other philosophers of the area, and he found it to stick much more easily than 'Crawly' ever did.

He let his gaze trail over his students. He only had a few. Three, to be exact. He had one of the smallest groups. The other philosophers—Diogenes, Euclid, Plato, even the late Socrates—all had larger spheres of influence than he did. But Crowley didn't mind. After all, his goal was to turn these students into problems, just to create some drama, courtesy of Hell.

And so Crowley taught them his version of wrong and right. The importance of keeping to yourself unless directly asked for input. How to treat someone cruelly if he is in your home and disrespecting you. And above all, never, _ever_ harm children. He had a few others, but mostly it was just Crowley rambling on about things he found to be true, and if someone wanted to listen to him, then so be it.

"–and camels," Crowley was saying, only just now becoming aware that he was currently trying to teach something. "Camels are water city, they are. Storing water in their back. Keeps 'em from dehydrating out in the desert." His students leaned forward, hanging on his every word. "Somethin' to do with their biology."

He took another swig from his goblet, and vaguely realized he might be a little drunk.

At the mention of biology, the students' eyes softened in understanding. They had learned a little bit of biology from another philosopher, but his insistence that creatures had all been changing from one to another over years and years just seemed too strange. Professor Crowley's explanation, that some divine being in the sky—that he called God—created everything out of mud and salt and breathed life into them, seemed more realistic.

"Camels also have these hooves different from modern-day donkeys. Have you ever really looked at a camel's hooves?" His students shook their heads. "They're split right down the middle. Like two toes. Helps 'em not sink in the sand." Crowley raised an eyebrow and chuckled to himself. "The scariest part is when they use those toe-hooves to try and kick you. Irritate a camel, and it may very well break your body. And if it can't reach you, it'll _spit_." Crowley demonstrated, launching a glob of spit to his left, and his students watched as it shot across the courtyard.

Crowley snickered, lounging back as his students began to chat amongst themselves. They had never really seen a camel before. Greeks nowadays preferred donkeys, for their strength and small size. Since moving away from the desert, Crowley had seen less and less of the humped creatures. Sure, his students had a vague idea of what camels looked like, but they had never gotten up close with one, like Crowley had. He remembered vividly how hard it was to get the spit-stain out of his tunic.

"Professor Crowley." He looked up and found the philosopher Antisthenes looking expectantly down at him. "A word?"

"Er, sure," Crowley slowly rose to his feet, trying not to show how drunk he was. Because he was indeed drunk. He followed Antisthenes into the courtyard's temple. A few other philosophers were there, and Crowley subtly sobered himself up, realizing this was an important meeting.

"We have come to discuss some unorthodox methods of teaching," Antisthenes said once Crowley settled down onto a mat next to the mathematician, Euclid, who kept his gaze lowered.

Plato scoffed. "It is hardly worth discussing," he said with a frown. "Leave my students be, and I shall leave yours. Who are we to be dictating how others educate?"

"Yes but you see, if we are not all on the same page, then how are we to know you are not doing other things with your students to help them learn?" The skeptic, Pyrrho, snarled back.

Crowley's eyes narrowed. He was missing something here, he was sure of it. He had no idea there was something wrong with Plato's way of teaching.

"If Crowley and I want to teach our students and abstain from pederasty*, that is our choice and you have no power to demand we begin." Plato clipped. Crowley startled as though struck. Was he doing something wrong? 'Pederasty' was a new word for him, and he was tempted to ask what it meant—after all, he was surrounded by some of the smartest minds of the era—but decided against it.

"Yeah," Crowley said before he had a chance to really gather his thoughts. He had apparently been doing something wrong, but he had to pretend like he knew what he was doing, and defend it. "Who are you to tell us how to run our day? I don't bother you all with my teachings. Sod off, yeah?"

Euclid made a noise similar to a swine. Something like a snort, that faded off into a throaty laugh. He still kept his gaze down.

Pyrrho glared at Euclid, but after he didn't say anything, Pyrrho jumped in again. "No, while you do not tell us how to coordinate our day, it is concerning that we are teaching them all in different ways. How do you explain human nature? How do you explain their needs?"

"Biology," Crowley said with confidence. Any time a student asked something he didn't know, he always fell back on the idea that God made it so using biology, and they weren't to question him about it anymore.

The other philosophers grumbled their dissent.

"I do not think this is a smart move," Pyrrho warned, but Plato was encouraged by Crowley's support.

"It does not matter. If my students want to learn from you, Pyrrho of Elis, then they will go to you themselves. They know what you teach, they know what they will be getting into. After all, I explain thoroughly to my students what my own teacher, Socrates, believed in, and why I disagree with certain pieces. It is their choice to stay with me. After all, Antisthenes, you are the one who also believes in pederasty and enjoyed when Socrates would engage in it with you. If my students have such a desire, I shall send them your way. I am not holding them back or restraining them in any way. It is their choice."

Antisthenes' face darkened at the mention of their late professor. "This relationship you share with your students, your 'Platonic' way of teaching them, if it suits you, then fine." He stood and jabbed a finger into Plato's chest. "But you will _not_ taint the name of our teacher." He turned on his heel and stalked from the temple, but not before spitting out, "None of you will discuss this with me again."

While Crowley never learned what pederasty meant—though not without trying and getting denied the definition repeatedly—he and many others did come to associate that other word, 'Platonic,' to mean 'friendly'. Crowley saw nothing wrong with that at all. And when he would look back on his time as a professor, he was proud of making friends with his students, and he was proud of the fact that the other philosophers seemed to notice his great relationship with the youth. Perhaps pederasty meant 'hostile,' where if a student misbehaved, they would be struck with a reed. Crowley had seen that many times and it always made his blood boil. He never struck his students. Perhaps that was what he was doing wrong?

Either way, he enjoyed his platonic way of teaching, and was almost sad to see it go.

~

*Pederasty in ancient Greece was a socially acknowledged romantic relationship between an adult male and a younger male usually in his teens. –Wikipedia

* * *

V. The Virgin – Mary and Joseph

"So Angel... Remind me why she needs to be untainted?" Crowley's nose twisted as he sprawled out on Aziraphale's mat. Gabriel had delivered the news to Mary that she would be the mother of the coming Son of God. Aziraphale was there too, as part of the angelic shock factor. He hadn't been a fan of the method of telling her, and was currently complaining to Crowley over a nice cup of wine.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and plopped himself down next to Crowley on the mat. Crowley felt his stomach do a little flip. Hedonistic little angel, enjoying alcohol to the point of being vaguely blasphemous. "Not just untainted. They want a virgin, Crowley. A virgin! How is she going to tell her family that she's going to bear a child and have them believe that she's still a virgin?"

Crowley shrugged sloppily. "Well, what's the big deal? Virgin, not a virgin. Why's it matter? She's going to be the mother of Christ. Her family should listen to her."

"Humans only put mer... mret... er, _worth_ , in a woman if she's a virgin. God doesn't care, really. But the Almighty wants other humans to respect the Son."

"Wuzzat even mean, virgin? Untainted from what?"

"Well, from touches from men."

"A man never touched her?"

Aziraphale shook his head sloppily, nearly spilling his drink. "Nope," he said, popping the 'p'.

"Must have been hard to find," Crowley mused, thinking of every friendly hug and kiss and other touches he had noticed over the years between men and women. To think, she had never even accidentally brushed hands with a man. That was impressive indeed. No wonder other humans only gave merit to a woman who was untainted in such a way.

Crowley supposed he could understand that, on some level. He wasn't sure why men were considered so filthy, but he gave up questioning human customs and their ways of thinking. _Humans are so strange_ , he decided, and took another long swig from his cup.

A few months later, Crowley got a notice from his superiors. He was instructed to do anything necessary to keep Mary from delivering the child.

Back in Egypt, Moses was the one to 'deliver' his people from Pharaoh's cruel rule. Crowley assumed this was the same. Assumed Mary was going to rescue this child from a cruel ruler. Wasn't Hell planning to convince Herod to slaughter the infant boys? Perhaps that was what Beelzebub meant: allow Herod to slaughter them and prevent Mary from 'saving' any of them.

He bit his tongue so hard, he tasted blood. Violence against children was never something Crowley was comfortable with. Maybe if he just stuck with Mary and prevented her from rescuing anyone, then Hell would consider it a job well done?

And so Crowley donned his female's attire once more and went to befriend Mary. He didn't want to accidentally taint Mary by touching her while he was male. After all, she had lasted this long. Crowley didn't want to be the reason she became tainted. Even something as small as a man touching her hand or shoulder would surely taint her, Crowley was sure.

Some part of his mind told him he shouldn't care if he tainted her. He was a demon, after all! But another part rationalized that if he was male, he wouldn't be able to befriend her and keep her away from Herod's slaughter.

Yes, that's what he would tell his superiors.

As he approached Mary's house, he heard shouting and overlapping voices. Frowning, Crowley stepped closer do a window and listened.

"You expect us to believe that?" A deep voice rumbled. "You've been impure!"

"No Aba, I haven't!"

"Oh Mary, we raised you to be better than this," a woman's voice lamented. Crowley peered in. A young woman—very young. Crowley estimated she was barely in double digits—was in tears, facing down two very disappointed-looking adults. Her parents, most likely.

"I told you, this is the Son of God! An angel came to me and said I was going to have a son and that I shall call him Emmanuel."

"It's the child of that carpenter, Joseph, isn't it?"

Mary whined in frustration, and Crowley could hear a wobble In her voice. "No, please you must believe me, it's the Son–"

"You need to leave for the afternoon," the mother's voice said sharply. "I need time to understand."

Mary didn't wait. She ran from the house, darting past Crowley as she sprinted away. Crowley sent a glare toward the parents and gave a demonic miracle to make them regret their actions, and took off after Mary.

He found her curled up as best she could—she had a rather large stomach—against a stone well. Crowley learned the hard way never to talk about a woman's body, unless he wanted a slap across the face, so he knew not to bring up how hard it looked for her to hug her knees like she was doing. He stepped closer and tried to act casual. Summoning a bucket into his hands, he made like he was going to draw some water, and suddenly 'noticed' her.

"Oh! Hello, what are you doing down there?" He asked, pitching his female voice to be gentle and soothing.

"My parents don't believe me," she sobbed. "My friends all left me when I told them what God told me, and I waited until I couldn't hide it anymore before I told my parents. I can't believe this…" She hugged herself tighter. "At least Joseph believes me."

"I believe you," Crowley said.

Mary gave him a withering look. "I don't need your pity."

"No pity. God talked to me a…a long time ago." He glanced away, pushing down the emotions that threatened to make an appearance. "I believe you."

She paused her sniffling and finally looked up at him, squinting in suspicion. She seemed to believe him after a minute, and her expression softened. "Thank you," she said quietly, placing a hand on her stomach. "I need to take a trip," she admitted. "Before Emmanuel comes, I'm supposed to go to Bethlehem."

Crowley winced. Bethlehem was where Herod was going to be slaughtering the children. He had to keep her away. "Why not stay here?" He wondered, looking around. "Nice city, nice people."

Mary gave him a wan smile. "Perhaps. But the angel told me to go, and I must listen."

Crowley bit his lip. "How about I go with you? Make sure everything goes smoothly?"

"Thank you, but no. My betrothed and I will make the journey alone."

In the end, Crowley failed. Mary delivered her child despite Crowley's best attempts at thwarting them as a pesky snake that hitched a ride on their donkey. But Mary did end up delivering Emmanuel, who she named Jesus. Crowley got a reprimand for it ("What did you _think_ we meant when we zzzzsaid 'prevent her from delivering the child'?")

His new instructions were to corrupt the growing boy.

He spent a while with the family, both as their friend and as the Devil, pretending to be two different entities. He even showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world. 

What he never understood was how poorly Mary was treated even after Jesus was born. Joseph looked after her, Jesus adored her, and her parents eventually came around. But other people would avert their eyes, would avoid talking to her, would not interact with her more than the bare minimum.

"Why didn't they believe her?" Crowley asked Aziraphale after the Son had risen again and he no longer had instructions to stay near the family. "He's proven time and time again that he's holy, why not believe her?"

Aziraphale shrugged. "Humans are very picky when it comes to who they believe and _what_ they believe. Conception is seen as dirty, you know, and therefore they decided she was dirty."

"Well, I learned what the modern definition of 'delivering' means," Crowley said with a shudder. "Mary in particular delivered young Jesus while in a stable. I can see how that whole process is considered dirty."

Aziraphale's face turned lightly pink, and his eyes softened for the first time since Jesus' death. He took a breath like he was going to say something. But he decided to just offer Crowley a tired smile instead.


	2. And One Time He Finally Learned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finally has the process explained to him. NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter has some sexy stuff in it, but nothing too explicit. If that squicks you out, then please don't read. But there's nothing too graphic, mostly a detached, educational explanation of making love. If that sounds like something you'd like, then have fun!

I. The Bookshop – Aziraphale and Crowley

Crowley wrung his hands together in a very Aziraphale-like way. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asked, voice tight.

Aziraphale's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. "Truthfully, I thought you knew. Gabriel was very thorough in making sure I knew everything there was to know about the humans and life on Earth. I assumed you knew as much as I did." His mirth faded and he looked away, biting his lip. "I realize I was wrong."

They sat in silence for a while. Crowley became very interested in his hands, sitting clasped tightly in his lap. "Well," he drawled, aiming for casual and landing squarely on nervously eager. "Perhaps you should tell me what else you know?"

Aziraphale skipped turning pink this time and went straight to beet-red. "A-Are you...quite sure that's something you want? You've gone this long without. I can guarantee, you're not missing a th–"

"Why not? Apparently humans have been doing it for ages..." he trailed off and felt heat in his cheeks. "Oh Satan, that's what Adam and Eve were doing, wasn't it?"

"Yes, my dear," Aziraphale smiled sheepishly.

"That's how long you've known?!"

"...yes, my dear."

Crowley shot up, running his hands through his hair and pacing anxiously. "And you just...never said anything before now?" Aziraphale looked away. Crowley took a deep breath. "Alright, it's okay. It's fine." He sat back down next to Aziraphale, and made a deliberate scoot to be closer to him.

Aziraphale watched from the corner of his eye.

"Would it be too inappropriate to ask you to teach me?" Crowley whispered, reaching a shaky hand out and resting it over Aziraphale's, loosely enough for the angel to pull away. Aziraphale took a measured breath and let it out slowly before lacing his fingers through Crowley's and angling his body so he was facing him.

Blinking up through his eyelashes, Aziraphale studied Crowley's stunned face. "Well," he murmured. "when humans plan to...make love–" Crowley made a face, but Aziraphale squeezed his hand to shut him up before he could even say anything, "–they often will sit close together, just like this. And they will perform small touches," he reached his other hand up to brush a knuckle down Crowley's very heated cheek, "like this."

Crowley swallowed, suddenly feeling like all the air was sucked from the room. Every little touch on his skin felt like fire. A wonderful, angelic fire. He leaned into the touch just barely, seeking out more of the warmth. Aziraphale smiled.

"After both parties have expressed their willingness to continue," Aziraphale leaned closer, words tickling Crowley's lips and cheeks. "Then one will deliver a kiss."

Crowley held his breath, felt his heartbeat racing in his ears, kept perfectly still as the angel cupped his cheek and leaned even closer. Crowley's lips parted in anticipation, and when he felt Aziraphale pause, mere millimeters from his lips, Crowley was the one to close the distance.

Aziraphale gave a soft little gasp, fingers tightening on Crowley's cheek. His eyes slid closed and Crowley reluctantly closed his as well. It helped him focus on the sensations that were threatening to overwhelm him. Soft, pliant lips against his own. The angel's scent so, so close. He pushed forward, pressing himself more fully against Aziraphale, and the angel responded nicely by unlacing their fingers so he could wrap an arm around Crowley's lower back and hold him there. Crowley, unsure what to do with his own hands, dug one hand into the back of the sofa to balance himself while the other rested uselessly in his lap, trying to keep from doing anything that would make Aziraphale pull away.

The kiss was nice, but Crowley couldn't really see the appeal. He couldn't even look at Aziraphale’s pretty face, for one, and he couldn't see the angel’s movements to really know what he was supposed to be doing.

Aziraphale was infinitely patient with him. After he came to the conclusion that Crowley was not going to do anything else but sit there, he pulled back just for a moment so he could free Crowley's death grip on the back of the sofa and instead settled his hand at Aziraphale's waist. Crowley was scarcely breathing, not even opening his eyes as Aziraphale readjusted them even more, so Crowley was sitting sideways in his lap.

When that warm hand pressed against his cheek again, Crowley dared to open his eyes and take in their new position. At this angle, he could feel every little shift Aziraphale made. Could feel every breath, every heartbeat. Crowley knew his eyes must have looked extremely demonic, since he could _feel_ the yellow extending all the way to the edges. But he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not when Aziraphale was looking at him with such adoration.

He released a small breath. "Aziraph–!"

He was interrupted with another kiss, but this one was different, somehow. More heated, more intimate. More hungry. Aziraphale tilted his head and Crowley felt like he had found a lock-and-key connection. A puzzle that finally found its missing piece. They fit perfectly together, and he kissed back with more fervor, chasing that sense of perfection and belonging. He felt Aziraphale's mouth open, felt the expanse of moist space that was allowed to him, and he made a soft noise.

Aziraphale took the lead, holding Crowley's head steady with one hand while his other kneaded at his hip and lower back. Crowley found it too difficult to coordinate so many limbs so he just let his hands tighten at Aziraphale's waist. He felt Aziraphale's tongue, warm and slick, against his lips. Shocked, Crowley jerked away, eyes wide and cheeks burning.

"Too much?" Aziraphale asked worriedly, looking between his eyes with a furrow in his brow.

Crowley blinked, trying to remember how to speak. "W- No, not too much. It just...ssstartled me."

"Alright." Aziraphale's fingertips slid through Crowley's hair. "You can try it too, if you like. It's very nice."

Crowley nodded quickly, and soon enough Aziraphale was nudging his lips against his once more, but this time he let Crowley go at his own speed.

Slowly, tentatively, Crowley brushed his tongue along Aziraphale's lower lip and was rewarded with a sharp inhale and a squeeze at his hip. Aziraphale let his own tongue venture out and Crowley felt a spike of heat through his whole body when they finally slid against each other, exploring and tasting.

Aziraphale tasted of warm tea and iced biscuits, and Crowley craved more. He shifted on Aziraphale's lap, trying to press closer to get a better taste, and felt something dig into his outer thigh. His brow tightened and he let one hand slide between them to push whatever it was off of Aziraphale's lap. Probably a book or something that Aziraphale had forgotten he was reading.

As soon as he touched it, Aziraphale _mewled_. He broke the kiss to pant heavily against Crowley's lips.

Crowley blinked, trying to understand Aziraphale's reaction, when he looked down and saw that his hand was squarely over Aziraphale's pants, resting on a warm bulge in his trousers. Crowley frowned more deeply.

"It's alright my dear boy, I just wasn't expecting that. You can touch if you like. After all, that _is_ the next step that humans do after kissing."

"Why are you so...firm? Your body is usually so soft," Crowley let his hand slide away from the heat to rest at the soft fat on Aziraphale's hips to emphasize his point. "Is something wrong?"

Aziraphale laughed breathily. "No, I'm perfectly alright. You mean to tell me that you've never even made an Effort before?"

Crowley glanced to the side while making defensive, wordless syllables in his throat.

"It's alright. Would you like me to show you mine, and you can decide if you'd like to make one too?"

Crowley bit his lip. He was sure he already knew what human bodies looked like in that general area. Males had that extra floppy piece, while females were flat. He had seen plenty of Greek wrestling and the Olympics and communal bath houses and other activities performed nude. He had never really seen the appeal of either organ, and therefore never gave himself an Effort. Besides, having the male piece would make his skintight jeans fit much less comfortably, he figured.

"I suppose," he answered slowly.

Aziraphale made quick work of his trousers and pushed them down just enough to free himself. Crowley felt his breath catch in his throat and he slid to sit next to Aziraphale so he could really look at this Effort Aziraphale had made for himself.

"I..." Words failed him. All he could force out after a few minutes was, "Wow."

Aziraphale took a breath to calm the deep red in his cheeks, and seemed to remember that he was supposed to be teaching Crowley. "Human males do this unconsciously when they are aroused. The stiffness allows them to penetrate females so they can impregnate them."

"Only females can get pregnant?" Crowley was almost sure he had seen a pregnant male before, but he could be mistaken.

"Yes, only females, mostly. A baby needs a uterus to grow in. And usually it is a female that carries a uterus, though there are some exceptions."

Crowley made an unsure noise in the back of his throat. Aziraphale reached down and gave himself a long, languid stroke. "However, males can still do this without a female if they are aroused enough. It means they feel very good." He gave Crowley a smile. " _You_ made me feel very good."

And damn if that didn't go straight to Crowley's heart and squeeze tightly. He watched Aziraphale give himself another stroke, and asked, "You need to touch it?"

"Ah, yes. In order to finish, I need to touch it."

"Finish what?"

"Well, that's just a way humans refer to ejaculation. Males secrete this white substance, semen, into the female, and it's that semen that impregnates her. And when he does ejaculate, he calls it 'finishing'."

Crowley watched as Aziraphale began to soften once more, the piece becoming a bit more floppy like he remembered them being. Before he could ask, Aziraphale was explaining, "The good feeling needs to continue if he wishes to finish. If it stops early, he will lose the erection." Crowley reached out, but thought better at the last second.

"May I?" He asked, looking up. Aziraphale grinned.

"Thank you for asking. Yes, you may."

Crowley took him in his hand like he saw Aziraphale do, and gave a slow stroke. He felt it throb a few times, and it began to harden in his palm again.

"Are males only allowed to fuck females?" Crowley wondered, using the word he had heard many times in Hell and finally understanding the biology behind it. Aziraphale gasped scandalously at the word, but Crowley felt the weight in his hand give another pulse and he knew the offense was simply an act.

"No, they can _make love_ to other males too. But only someone with a uterus can become pregnant."

"Can't become pregnant. But males can still feel good together?" Crowley asked, and Aziraphale nodded with a grin. Crowley rolled this information around in his head before finally asking, "What about an angel and a demon?"

Aziraphale turned red again. "I suppose if neither has a uterus, the same rules would apply? No pregnancy, but they can feel good together."

"What about...you and me?"

Aziraphale went quiet, understanding softening his features. "Crowley..."

"It's alright if you don't want to, Angel. I was just curious." He snatched his hand away from Aziraphale altogether, and made to get up off the sofa. "I'm sorry, I think this was a mistake. I shouldn't've–"

"No," Aziraphale argued, tucking himself away, getting up, and snatching Crowley's wrist all in one movement before he could get too far. "I don't think it was a mistake. I just think going all the way to sex is moving a tad fast. I think you should make an Effort and see what you think, first. I could even help you, if you'd like. I would love nothing more than to share what I know with you, my dear."

"Oh," Crowley said softly. He stepped closer to the sofa and Aziraphale tugged him to sit back down. "I guess I could...make an Effort."

Picking up on his hesitation, Aziraphale said, "You don't have to do anything tonight, if you don't want."

Crowley seemed visibly reassured by that, and gave a sheepish smile. "Can we go back to kissing?"

Aziraphale smiled incredibly softly. "Of course, love. Come here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please make sure to leave Kudos and/or a comment! It would really mean a lot to me!!

**Author's Note:**

> On Twitter-  
> a_black_shepherd_doge: "please confirm this theory: Crowley has no idea why Noah needed 2 of every species.."  
> Neil Gaiman: "Note his unicorn statement."
> 
> ...and thus this story was born :)
> 
> ~ ~ ~  
> Thank you for reading! Second chapter will be up tomorrow!


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